The Destiel Kiss
by tranland
Summary: Set during The French Mistake. Dean is forced to kiss Meta!Misha Cass for an episode of Supernatural. AWKWARD. Destiel, if it wasn't obvious. T for language/suggestive themes


Haayyyy! I'm doing a bunch of Destiel one-shots since my heart is broken from the s6 finale. This particular fic is when the Winchester bros are taken to the Jensen Ackles/Jared Padaleki/Misha Collins verse. Misha is not the real Misha. This is Meta!Misha. So I'm not that creepy, okay? Anyways, enjoy!

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"Hey! Hey, Jensen! Over here!" Came the voice of the one guy Dean really did not want to hear at the moment. Fake Cass... err, Misha, was a nice guy... but he was just freakin' weird. Like, why was he tweeting all the time? And what was with the dumb nicknames? He was the exact opposite of Cass, which really upset him in more ways than one. His missed the angel. Misha was just a substitute, and it was really starting to show that he had been feeling left out.

Dean couldn't blame fake him. If he resembled anything like his real self, he would try and stay as far away from this guy as possible. He sighed, aggravated, and faced the angelic lookalike. His eyes were gleaming with nervous excitement, something that made Dean wary. This guy would not get excited over something normal. No, something bad was going to happen. Very, very bad.

"Where's Jared?" Misha asked, his kitten-like eyes wide and inquisitive. Dean shrugged.

"I dunno. Probably looking for a bathroom... or something. What do you want?" Dean knew Sam would call if he was in trouble. They were on a bit of a time schedule, and they needed the last ingredient of the spell before they could preform it that day.

Misha twiddled his thumbs, looking down. "Uh, so... today's the day, huh?" he giggled for a moment, then sobered up, still looking down. Was that a blush on his cheeks?

"Uhh... yeah. That day. Good luck, man." a comforting pat on the shoulders. He had no idea what the actor was talking 's eyes widened in shock.

"You mean you're not nervous?!" he gasped. Dean shrugged.

"Well, uh, there isn't a lot I haven't done in my... career." he smirked, a bitter joke. Misha raised one eyebrow appraisevly.

"You've never kissed a guy on screen before. Even I know that!" he chuckled. Dean's eyes shot wide open in shock, a strangled choke escaping his lips. "J-man! Are you okay?" Misha exclaimed, alarm filling his eyes. If he were Cass, Dean might've found it cute. But this guy was not Cass. Sure, he looked like Cass, talked like Cass (sometimes), and was about as socially capable as Cass, but this man was not an angel of the Lord. He was Misha Collins. Castiel was special.

A horrible though manifested itself in Dean's head. "Wait, I'm not kissing... Sa-Err, Jared, am I?" an edge of hysteria hit his voice. If he had to kiss his own brother, he would just die.

"Of course not, silly! You're kissing me. It'll bring in the fangirls." Misha wiggled his eyebrows devilishly.

Dean made that odd choking noise again.

Oh shit. Cass was... Cass! He couldn't kiss the guy! Even if he was just a lookalike... It was too much look-alike-ing! His heart froze. If he were to kiss Cass, it would only be the real guy. Not some lame actor.

Just then, Sam returned with the stuff they needed. Dean whisked him away, wishing Misha good luck or whatever and getting the hell away from him.

"Dude, what's your deal? He isn't really Cass, you know." Sam snickered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Dean gulped, shaking his head from side to side.

"I have to ki-ki-ki-"

"Kill?" Sam's eyebrow rose. "Well, I can see how that would be a little uncomfortable, since-"

"KISS!" Dean nearly shouted. "I have to KISS this sorry son of a bitch!"

Sam was silent for a moment. Contemplating.

Then, he burst into laughter, hearty and hilarious.

"It's a good thing we've got all the spell stuff. Just a few minutes and BAM! Right back home." Sam tried to make his brother feel better. It did, in fact. It mean that Jensen Ackles or whoever was gonna have to kiss the sorry son of a bitch. As long as it wasn't him.

Once they got to the set, they couldnt find Bobby's Living Room. It was gone. Dean made a high-pitched squeal in his throat, looking around for Bobby's set.

It was nowhere to be found.

"Yeah, we took down the Living Room set last night. You know, for the new sets today? We've got Motel Design #7, Police Station, Street Corner #3, and Graveyard #9. The Dean/Cass kiss is gonna take place in the motel, when Sam leaves to get ingredients for the summoning spell." a P.A was talking to Robert Singer as the two hunters listened. Dean's face was white. Sam was doubled over with laughter.

There was no escaping it now. Resistance was futile. Dean resigned to kissing the lost puppy version of Cass. He grabbed the script from one of the nearby writers, and gawked at the scene. "I have to like... make out with him? You have got to be freakin' kidding me!"

"That's showbiz, kiddo." Sam grinned maliciously.

Finally, the time had come. There had been so many retakes of precious scenes, that all they had time for was working on the Big Kiss scene. Dean was beyond nervous. Misha was popping breathmints like some kind of drug. Dean looked over at the angelic actor and subtly took one from his little tin container. They were called up to the stage, and Dean quickly chewed up the mint in his mouth. Everything was so sharp and defined. He could feel his heartbeat accelerating with each step. Misha looked nervous as well, shuffling his feet and looking down.

"Aaaand... Action!" the dreaded words.

Misha suddenly became Cass, his entire demeanor changing to fit the character. Dean was impressed. Surely if that little guy could act, he could, too? He literally was the character he's playing, after all. He took a deep breath and let the scene wash over him.

"Dean..." Cass whispered, gravelly voice laden with worry. "I sense we both understand the urgency of this situation."

Dean nodded enthusiastically, suddenly blanking on lines. Luckily, it wasn't his turn yet. "If we can't find Balthazar, we might be forced to admit that he is truly dead."

A well of beautiful improvisational gold just washed up in his brain. "I can't believe that he's dead, Cass." his voice was low, and he turned away from the actor in an angel's body, looking for something natural to do. He found a plastic knife on the bedside table, and picked it up, toying with it absently.

"But we will need to face the facts. If he is, we will not be able to find the weapons. We won't be able to defeat Raphael!"

"We will find a way to get those weapons." Dean asserted, twirling around suddenly and tossing the knife down on the table again. "No matter what. Hell, I'm a pretty damn good lock-pick, aren't I?" He shrugged with a smirk.

"Dean. There is something you need to know." Cass sighed, looking at his hands, in an effort at being self-conscious. He took a step closer to the rugged hunter. "These weapons... they might not be on this plane of existence."

"So you're telling me what, that we can't make 'em move existences?" Dean narrowed his eyes, noticing the white tape on the floor in front of him. He took a step and was standing on the line, an inch away from Cass/Misha's face. The actor didn't waver his ice-blue gaze, eyes boring into Dean's own hazel.

"There might be a way to do just that, but it is... extremely hazardous."

Dean bit back a snort. This guy was a fabulous actor. He shrugged it off and his gaze sharpened.

"I'll do whatever it takes to win this war." He growled, fists clenching. For a moment, he saw awe in the other actor's eyes. Then worry. Then fear.

It was almost time.

Cass/Misha never relented his stare from the elder Winchester brother's face.

Then, as the director was beginning to tap his feet impatiently, it was time. Something in him snapped. Cass/Misha's eyes widened, in shock and also some other emotion Dean couldn't quite make out. His lips crashed against Cass/Misha's, although he knew to keep it a stage kiss. The directors might freak out if one of the stars began mackin' on the other too much.

It felt strictly professional, and while Dean knew it was because Misha definitely (probably) didn't play for that team, it hurt. He wished it was the real Cass, not the damn actor.

Suddenly, the kiss deepened. He felt a rough hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The feeling of a stranger's lips dissipated and was replaced with a warm, comforting feeling. Like coming home, if you will. The director's voice, calling out "Scene!" faded, like they had been in another room.

Dean held the other man in this embrace for a few more moments, before opening his eyes slowly and seeing Cass before him.

Not that Misha guy, but Cass. His Cass. A slight reddish color was upon the angel's face, along with a breathless grin.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel whispered, his voice rough. Dean growled a greeting before pushing the angel onto the closest wall, lips meeting in a defiant battle once again.

A loud throat clearing took Dean's attention from his angel. Sam was looking kinda grossed out.

"I'm just gonna... Yeah. Sick now. Explain later." he darted into the bathroom and shut the door.

There was a beat of bemused silence.

"So... how did you do it?" Dean wondered after a moment, looking into his angel's true blue eyes. He smirked.

"Well, it seems that the link between this vessel and the one from that dimension was particularly strong. I found a way to get in there to help you escape, and... that was happening." he chuckled. Dean didn't bother saying anything else. Castiel was goddamn sexy when he laughed.

Without another word, he pulled his angel down on the bed with him, just when Sam shot out of the bathroom and out the front door of the motel room, shouting "I'll be in the Impala if you need me, see you in the morning!" as fast as humanly possible.

Dean and Cass didn't really care, though. They were kind of occupied.

In the morning, the glowing lovers strolled to the Impala, where Sam was sleeping with his face pressed up against the passenger window. Dean smirked and knocked on the glass, hoping his brother would wake up.

He didn't, of course. Damn sound sleeper.

"Hey, can you go get a plastic spoon and fork really quick?" Dean asked Cass, the wheels in his head turning. Cass was back seconds later, off-white plastic utensils in hand. Dean rubbed his hands together in a stereotypical 'evil guy' fashion. He opened the driver's side door and leaned over to Sam, a laugh barely held back. He carefully stuck the spoon on Sam's nose, and cautiously put the fork in his mouth. Before he could erupt in laughter, he escaped the Impala and buried his head in Cass's trenchcoat, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Cass did not question him, although a confused head-tilt was evident. Dean looked back at Cass and merely shook his head, chuckling. "Thanks, Cass. Why don't we just... wait for a bit? I'm sure Sammy could use the extra sleep."

Just then, the moose snorted awake, surprised at the fork and spoon on his face. He was baffled for a moment, then he came to his conclusion and looked out the window of the Impala. There, he saw Dean grinning like a maniac, and Cass with his head tilted to the side. Sam groaned in defeat and laid his head back on the head-rest thing.

He was gonna have to sleep in the Impala for a long time.


End file.
